Ever After
by Corvus
Summary: A brief image.


Ever After  
by Corvus  
The power of the wind-tossed sea filled her mind, but could not   
wash away the stain on her soul. As she stood on the rocky shore   
staring at the frothy slate-colored ocean, Ami could not truly   
feel the icy spray borne on the frigid wind. In a desperate   
effort to rinse the corruption of death she filled herself with   
the sea's energy, but it wasn't working.  
  
Since her arrival in this land Ami had come to accept the   
necessity of killing, in defense of kingdom, family and honor.   
She had accepted the necessity of killing, for others -- not for   
herself. For her to claim a human life was anathema. Yet she   
had done just that in defense of one whose sword had taken   
several lives over the past three years. She had done just that   
in defense of Makoto, who had protected Ami with that bloody   
sword.  
  
Makoto... The blood could not stain her honorable soul. Makoto,   
Ami's only tie to the world she had left behind. They had been   
different people, before, in a world where hope still shone a   
silver ray of light. It was a life long lost, and Ami had begun   
to give up hope of ever returning to it. Makoto had accepted   
this new life early on, but Ami still held on. The hold was   
weakening, day by misty day in this brooding, shrouded place.   
Had it not been for Makoto, Ami felt certain she would have lost   
her hold on herself as well.  
  
The steady rhythm of the moody waves crashing and tumbling over   
the stones of the shore filtered through the ecstasy of Water's   
power as the ragged, dying heartbeat of a man, rust-pitted sword   
in hand, eyes wide in shock, blood transmuted to lethal poison by   
that same element's power. Beat... beat... Ami's hands, clad in   
gloves the lying white of purity, clenched into tight fists   
around the glittering, star-flecked black wood of the scepter she   
held. The heartbeat became an accusation from which she could   
not hide. A man had died because of her power. His blood would   
stain her hands forever.  
  
Ami's chin fell to touch her chest, clad as the rest of her in   
that lying white. A brief fancy of the wind tossed her cape   
back, baring her gold-worked tunic, mid-thigh skirt and knee-high   
boots. Once she would have worn a skirt and boots of blue, but   
not any more. No longer was she Sailor Mercury. That identity   
had been stripped away by her passage to this place. Now Ami was   
a sorceress, mistress of the five elements: Water, Wood, Fire,   
Earth and Metal. A sorceress who had struck a man down in the   
prime of his life.  
  
Her hands loosened; the scepter slipped from her grasp and   
tumbled to the stony ground, the transparent globe at its head   
which contained the swirling, rainbow-hued ether striking first   
with a sharp crack. Ami's eyes closed. She searched deeper for   
solace in the element of Water, but the deeper she reached, the   
more Water reminded her of blood.  
  
Lost as she was, Ami did not hear the footfalls until they   
reached the stones. Without turning, she knew who it was; there   
was only one who would dare approach her, surrounded as she was   
by the mystique of a wielder of sorcery. Makoto, clad in her   
wood-brown tunic and trousers, hunter-green cloak revealing only   
the barest glimpse of her beautiful face and the handle of her   
deadly, curved sword. Makoto, her only friend. Makoto, who   
loved her.  
  
That thought was enough to pull Ami away from the sea of blood,   
so that she found herself staring at the whitecaps in the   
distance. But she could not turn. This violation would not let   
her face Makoto, not now. Even if Ami weren't terrified of the   
thought of surrendering herself to the love she saw in her   
friend's emerald eyes every time their gazes touched, she could   
not bear to think of what she might see in Makoto's eyes now.   
What would she see there -- hate? Revulsion? Pity? Worse yet,   
would she see the same love? Would that love be so strong that   
it would survive even this? She could never be worthy of a love   
so strong, especially not now.  
  
Ami could not feel Makoto's thoughts, else she would have felt   
Makoto's overpowering need for Ami simply to turn and look at   
her. Underneath her verdant cloak, Makoto's left hand clutched   
the long handle of her curved sword. She stopped a pace behind   
and beside Ami. Words she dared not speak tightened her chest.   
If only she could overcome her fear, reach out and touch the one   
she adored... But the fear held her fast like a spell, fear for   
Ami that threatened to crush the life out of her.  
  
Their arrival in this world had been a confused jumble of noise   
and light. A horrible wrench, a strange explosion of darkness   
before Makoto's eyes, pain through every nerve in her body, then   
a separation from all sensation. Sensation had returned like a   
hard slap and she had found herself lying next to Ami on cold,   
damp stones in the center of a ring of chanting figures in snowy   
robes. Makoto's only thought then had been to make sure Ami was   
all right. The smaller, blue-haired girl had been unharmed, and   
was just as lost as Makoto.   
  
Makoto had taken Ami into her arms instinctively, and in that   
moment she had sworn to protect Ami from all harm. Since that   
day Makoto had held herself to that pledge, using her newfound   
abilities to keep Ami safe. Ami might never accept her love, but   
that didn't matter to Makoto, so long as Ami was never hurt.  
  
But how could she protect Ami from this? The magic-weilders in   
this world weren't bound by any oaths, but most of them refrained   
from doing harm with their awesome powers. Ami had held to that   
ideal, using her sorcery to shield Makoto in battle and to heal   
the wounded. But now...?  
  
The melee had started as many did, desperate brigands erupting   
from the mist and thick growth to either side of the narrow,   
soggy road: highwaymen set on taking what they could from the   
royal ambassador's party of which Makoto and Ami were a part.   
Makoto's sword had almost leapt into her hands of its own accord,   
so fast was she in drawing the steel. Even as she cut down the   
first assailant she felt a twinge of pity. The brigands were   
poorly armed and were obviously hungry. If she thought the men   
would listen Makoto would have cried for their surrender and   
given them her own rations of the party's food. But one thing   
Makoto had learned quickly in this world was that desperate men   
with blood thundering in their ears heard no words of mercy.  
  
Two more men fell to her blade, perhaps thinking Makoto a weaker   
target because of her sex. Then there had been a soul-killing   
shriek that could only have come from Ami. Makoto turned in time   
to see a brigand, his already blotchy skin turning sickly shades   
of red and purple, clutch his throat and fall to the ground,   
where he died, twitching and retching. Ami's scepter had been   
leveled at the man. The few remaining assailants lost what   
courage their hunger had lent them and crashed back into the   
dense forest, but all Makoto saw was the devastation on Ami's   
face.  
  
That was three hours ago. The ambassador had halted the party at   
the earliest possible place and ordered them to make camp and   
tend the wounded. Ami had ridden in silence, unmolested by the   
rest of the group and not responding to Makoto's gentle pleas.   
As the rest attended their duties, Ami had slipped away,   
unwilling -- or unable -- to summon her power for healing stabs   
and slashes. It had been several minutes before Makoto noticed   
Ami was gone, but it wasn't hard to follow the trail the   
blue-haired sorceress had left.  
  
Now here she stood, gazing on the white-shrouded form of the one   
she loved, unable to speak. If only Ami would say something...  
  
The sorceress lifted her gloved hands from her sides and stared   
at them. Makoto knew, now, what Ami was thinking. Anger swelled   
in her breast, outrage that such a noble soul as Ami's could be   
subject to such agony for simply defending a friend from certain   
death. "Look at me," Makoto whispered, but Ami did not hear.   
Ami began to turn... away.  
  
Makoto reached out and took firm hold of Ami's left elbow. Ami   
looked at Makoto for the first time, sapphire eyes stricken, and   
tried to pull her arm from Makoto's grip, but she could not.   
Makoto's free hand pulled the green hood back from her face,   
freeing her cascade of chestnut hair to fly in the frigid breeze,   
and their gazes met.  
  
It was still there, stronger than ever. The blow was like a   
physical impact, driving the will and the breath from Ami. Her   
struggles ceased. Three waves broke on the shore and retreated,   
one for each year of their exile, as they looked into each   
other's souls, unblinking.  
  
Unwilling to bow to the fear any more, Makoto loosened her grip   
on Ami's elbow and gently removed the white glove that covered   
the elegant hand and forearm. Then she lifted Ami's bare hand to   
her cheek and covered it with her own. No blood could stain that   
hand. No blood could ever make Makoto not want this touch.  
  
"No blood," was all Makoto said.  
  
A tide rose to cover Ami's soul like the power of the ocean, but   
what the sea could not wash away, those two words did. The   
violation and the pain faded from her as if they had never been,   
leaving her as pure as the white she wore. The words took   
something else as well -- fear. Within those emerald eyes Ami   
saw that no matter what happened, she would be worthy of the love   
Makoto felt. Slowly Ami withdrew her hand from Makoto's cheek,   
but only to slip her arms around the swordswoman and draw her   
close.  
  
Makoto returned the embrace without a word. She had sworn to   
protect Ami from all harm, and she would forever do just that.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I never expected to return to Sailor Moon after I left the corpse   
of a horrible action/adventure series SM fic behind me, but here   
it is, only my third foray into shoujo-ai. The first was a pure   
lemon ("For Love", Gunbuster) and the second a piece of WAFFy   
songfic fluff ("Another Time", Final Fantasy 8). I'm not a   
Sailor Moon fan any more (are you listening, Kevin Callahan?) but   
I am forced to admit that I am still an Ami and Makoto fan.  
  
This short piece is the written form of an image I saw one night.   
That image was inspired by a good friend, John F. Martin (aka   
FurrySaint), and this fic-piece was named by him and is dedicated   
to him.  
  
Eventually this piece will become part of a longer fic which I am   
naming "Mirror of Your Mask". The world and situation in which   
Ami and Makoto have found themselves begs exploration. 


End file.
